The Master of Whisperers carefully pulled the wooden door closed behind him. When he heard the latch clicking into place he turned to face the solid oak, taking a large wrought iron key from underneath his flowing silken sleeve. He placed the key in the lock and gave a tentative turn until hearing another click. His room was only sparse, with little finery that contrasted many of the other private chambers boasted within The Red Keep. Yet it held his secrets – not all and not many of them – yet they were in there waiting for his attention upon his return. For now he had something else too attend to that was far more pressing. The key was deftly placed in a leather draw-string pouch at his waist before he moved away from the door. As soon as he was ready too move on he pulled a hood over his head, folded his arms and gracefully started picking his way through various passages within The Red Keep.
One such passageway, old and smelling of damp; it hadn't seen the light of day since it's inception, led him in the general direction he wished to head. He reached up taking a torch from the sconce on the wall, mindful of his robes long sleeves. The light given off from the torch was only dim, but aided his eyes enough too spot for cracks in the floor or the uneven stones beneath his feet that were likely to trip him should he steps go astray. It was a thin passageway also, a man couldn't stand next to another and speak should they have wished. It was one that he made sure that all of his 'Little Birds' knew for it's directness in and out of The Red Keep – which was why he had chosen it over the secret staircase in his own chambers. As he neared towards the end of the twisting passageway, having taken the correct turns when needed, he replaced the torch on an awaiting, empty sconce. A ladder was stood in single sentry at the end of the passageway, underneath which the strands of cast off cloth had fallen. With a measure of physical exertion he felt no longer accustomed to he started the ascent. At the top of the ladder he pushed a thin wooden plank that covered the exit. Needless to say he was glad that his message about removing the stone slabs had been correctly received.
When he emerged from the top of the ladder a simple curtain concealed the passageway from view. Without trepidation he moved it out of his way. Before him was a workers house and home. Simple in it's design. Around the walls of the room were rails from which hung several beautifully crafted dresses all embossed in the richest of designs. The colours alone were a sight to behold ranging from the darkest indigo to beyond sublime yellow. On overhead shelving rested material that was still waiting to be turned into one of the magnificent garments. A ladder led to the rafters where the workers lived, and slept. Spare spinners wheels rested in any space available and the floor was scattered with the same ragged ends of cloth that had fallen down the ladder. In the corner sat a woman weaving, a daughter beside her working on her own miniature loom patterns. He noticed that the older of the ladies looked up and gave the briefest of nods to which he returned a small smile. He left the working women as quickly as he had arrived, using the front door.
Outside the weather was as warming as ever. Hot rays beating down on the unsuspecting peoples of Kings Landing. The dust he kicked up stuck to the damp patches of his clothing as he picked his way through the crowds. He gave fleeting attention to a small group giving a show, he quickly gathered it was about something heretical about the reigning family and made mental note to report it the moment he returned. His continued steps brought him the the closed door of one of the cities many orphanages. He pushed the door and was instantly relieved to be out of the hammering sun. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the darkness within the room. When they did it revealed a room much how he had expected. Make shift beds, tattered sheets and more children than he dared to count. The pillars were a grand addition to the rather drab surroundings, leading Varys to believe the building was intended for something other than it's current use.
He approached the matron mother of the orphanage, a woman he had known for many years and without preamble he stated, "You have one for me?" his voice light and airy, sounding as he was known most to the public. When she replied he noted that her voice was flat, dull without any real interest. She told him that the boy was only a potential for him and warned him not to be too disappointed if the child wasn't what he was looking for. When they brought him from among the rest of the children he was grubby with wild unmanageable hair, much like the rest of the children. That was a good start.
"What made you think of me?" Varys inquired, he recalled he hadn't heard much from this particular orphanage in some time, possibly years. He giggled to the reply of he was found climbing the walls. The spy-master looked down to the child before kneeling before him. His first words were the most important that he could test the child with. "Say nothing." The instructions were simple and easy to understand even for a youth of six years. His hands came from their tucked position then as he examined the boy. Taking his hands and turning them over to make sure no digits were missing from either. Satisfied he took the boys head in his soft hands and repeated the examination process with his eyes and teeth. Even going so far as to test the youths focus with his finger, opening the boys jaws wide.
"What is your name, child?" He asked innocently and when the boy replied without hesitation he cuffed him around the back of his head with his hand. "Keep silent," He hissed towards the child. A cruel trick, but he couldn't spare the chance that one of his 'Little Birds' would say the wrong thing at the wrong time. Or the right time, depending on the situation at hand. "Go, climb." He instructed the child, who this time turned to the matron mother. He noticed her giving an encouraging nod. A broken rule under the circumstances. Lord Varys watched the child climbing the wall. He watched the way his hands held onto the smallest of cracks in the stones and how he seemed to stick to the side with very little effort. It was impressive and certainly one of the rarer things found in children these days. He was no longer of an age where he could teach a child such acrobatic prowess, so for one to come with the skill set as default – priceless. He turned to the matron mother as he took the leather pouch from his side, paying her the three coins that made the child his.
When Lord Varys looked up from their exchange of coin he couldn't see the boy at first, only when the boy waved did he notice how high he had climbed. He motioned for the boy to come down and join them again. Varys thanked the woman for her work and her good eye and assured her that should she have any other children with such wonderful talents that he would happily take them under his wing. He watched the boy run across the courtyard towards them smiling all the while. They left the orphanage together, the Master of Whisperers had already arranged for a family to take care and train him. Little Birds that had flown the nest. His heart sank when the boy asked what he should call him. "Nothing, you call me nothing." He told the child with a measure of sympathy. Before the day was over, Lord Varys would have the boys tongue.